In the Night
by ShannyRawr
Summary: Clarke has troubles with her dreams and finds herself receiving unlikely comfort from the rebel leader. One-shot. Mix of TV and book canon aspects.


**Hello! I haven't written anything in quite a while, and this is my first time writing Bellarke. _But_ no matter. This is something I typed up quickly during class and I really like the idea, if not the actual writing. If you have any prompts you want done, I can attempt them - just shoot me an ask on Tumblr (my URL is legolas-expressions). Thanks and hope you enjoy!**

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When she closed her eyes, it was the Ark; _like it always was._ The Ark with its executions and tight air and stench of metal and misery. The cell was dimly lit and chilly, but as she turned her head, taking in the surroundings, she wasn't too shocked to find all her drawings still littering the walls.

It was just as she had left it. And, _like it always was_¸ this was the moment she realized it was a dream. She had left the Ark and that claustrophobic prison cell, that place where children waited patiently to die; it was a distant but all too real memory. This didn't stop her from shivering – from curling into a tight ball in the corner like was habit. She would wait what felt like hours but could've only been minutes until two guards opened the door and violently grabbed her arms, only to shove her out into the hall.

She tried to run, a natural fight or flight instinct, but was immediately lifted off the ground and carried kicking and screaming to what she knew would be the execution room. She must be eighteen. She must be. Of course, she wasn't sure. The days and weeks all blended together in Confinement. But if she was being taken to her death, she must be of age. Because it's justified to stick innocent children into a small metal box for varying amounts of time and then kill them at eighteen. For the sake of humanity. Really, they were all heroes, right?

Suddenly she was standing in front of a glass encasement with the council surrounding her. Jaha looked on with pity and a hint of disgust, his fingers dangerously close to the button that would confirm her death. Each twitch in one of the bones caused her heart to skip a beat. Her eyes dragged across the exclusive audience until they fell on her mother, tears streaming down her face but with a hard look in her eyes. There was something cold and unwavering about them that she had never seen before; something that just _wasn't_ her mom. And yet there it was and there she was.

It wasn't like how her dad went. There were no kind words and last attempts to save her. Jaha opened the glass screen, allowed her to be pushed in, shut it, and then there was a pause. Everything was hanging in the air, almost too heavy to breathe (which was nothing compared to freefalling out in space, of course). Then he pressed it and she was being sucked away, such _force_ and –

A gasp and a swallowed scream were Clarke's greeting back onto planet Earth. Cold sweat streaked across her brow and the back of her neck. The covers were kicked off. But there were blades of grass and dirt and _air_ and she was very much alive and very much not on the Ark; that was all that mattered. But there was that familiar pang of remembering that her dad was really dead. And then the erupting flame that was her mother's betrayal.

Clarke sat up and took in slow, deep breaths until her heart rate had slowed. The night was quiet – felt languid – but not silent and that was more comforting than it ought to be. She crawled out of the tent and looked up; thousands of stars. What a strange feeling to not be among them.

A rustle of grass caught Clarke's attention and she swiveled her head to the side, spotting another figure sprawled out on the grass, arms under their head, watching the sky. She padded softly over to them and was surprised to see Bellamy looking back at her.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked suspiciously, thought it was more for the sake of appearances than anything else; she wasn't all that suspicious.

The young man blinked and then turned his eyes back to the dark sky (Clarke couldn't help but notice the stars reflecting in them like specs of silver dust). "Unpleasant dreams. Nothing new." Something bubbled in her chest because _wow,_ she hadn't actually expected Bellamy to be honest. He looked tired, though, and people often get tired of lying; of pretending to be okay.

Clarke hummed noncommittally and sat down beside him, pulling her knees up to her chest and staring ahead. She could feel when his gaze shifted to her, but didn't look back. Without needing him to ask, she answered, "Me too." There was a moment when she was sure Bellamy would say more, but he just resigned to sigh and look away.

Eventually, she lay back in the same position as Bellamy and found herself trying to count the twinkling little spots of gas and light. The silence between them _should_ have been tense and uncomfortable, but Clarke wasn't all that shocked to feel completely at ease; more so than she had in ages. There was something just plain and simple comforting about lying there next to this criminal; this overprotective brother with more kindness in his heart than he'd ever care to admit. But Clarke knew.

"It was all my fault," Bellamy suddenly said, which was pretty vague, seeing as there were many things that could be argued for. Clarke turned her head to watch him. "That Octavia was dumped in Confinement." _Oh._ "I just wanted her to see Earth and the stars for once in her life; to be out of our god forsaken loft. And all I did was get her sentenced to death."

She could see the way his lips twitched, trying to reign in the tidal wave of emotion that talking about this must bring up; could see the wetness forming in his eyes. This vulnerability hadn't surfaced since that night with Dax. An overwhelming amount of Clarke wanted brush her leg against his or place her hand on his arm; some form of physical contact to surface both of them to the earth; to ensure the two that they weren't living in the past anymore, but in a future full of infinite possibilities. She didn't move.

Clarke waited for Bellamy to continue, but he didn't give any signal of expanding on the topic. The blonde gazed at him a moment more before looking up again. "My mom did it." It was only fair. "She got my dad killed and I put into Confinement." Suddenly his searing eyes were back on her and she felt more exposed than ever. But this one aching pull forced her to continue, even if Bellamy never wanted to. "He was going to tell everyone about the oxygen running out; they _deserved_ to know and my mom got him floated _right in front of my eyes_." Emotion welled up and she stopped speaking, swallowing down what felt like bile but was more like word vomit. She could only bring herself to admit so much in one night.

There was more silence and Bellamy didn't press, just watched her as she had done him. She knew he was tracking the tears that had begun to make their way down her cheeks – uninvited and unwanted. Fortunately, and Clarke had never been so grateful, he pretended they weren't there.

Neither of them had directly said what their nightmares were about, but it was simply an unspoken understanding. The biggest ghosts of their pasts; of the Ark. And if it was all left hanging in the air between them, well, who would know?

At some point Bellamy gazed back up at the stars and the quiet stretched on endlessly and his fingers gently curled around hers, with enough give for her to pull away if she wanted to, but she didn't want to.


End file.
